


Yuri on Ice Drabbles Collection

by wyse_ink



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Comfort, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Engagement, Established Relationship, F/M, JJBellaWeek, Light Angst, M/M, Romance, more tags may be added, yuuribirthdayweek
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-08
Updated: 2017-11-27
Packaged: 2018-11-29 11:03:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 6,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11439528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wyse_ink/pseuds/wyse_ink
Summary: A collection of short drabbles centered around the characters of Yuri!!! on Ice.Each chapter is a different drabble, so there's no type of release schedule. This collection only consists of my G and T-rated drabbles. M and E will be posted separately if they occur.If you're looking for fluff, this might be for you!





	1. On those quiet evenings...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a peaceful little domesticy drabble for a rainy evening. Please don’t copy, plagiarize, or repost any portion of this work.

        Yuri Katsuki had made guesses about what his life would be like in his mid-twenties. A year ago, he had pictured himself in retirement, skating at the ice castle when the mood struck him and working with his family back in Hasetsu. As a teenager, he would have imagined himself competing against Victor Nikiforov, hopefully on equal ground, maybe even standing on the podium with him. Both of these somehow seemed a drastically different picture than the scene he was in now, standing in the kitchen with the very skater he’d hoped to compete against; maybe get to know if he was lucky. Instead, he was kissing him, vaguely aware that Victor had temporarily left their dinner unattended to do so.

       “When you asked me if I wanted a taste,” Yuri began as they separated, “I thought you meant the food.”

       “I did.” Victor’s arm tightened around Yuri’s waist as he turned partway, stirring the pasta with his free hand. The recipe–or rather, the parts of it Victor had managed to stick to–was one they’d found online and one that he’d had been insistent on trying, even taking the lead in the cooking process. It was clear that his enthusiasm hadn’t wavered either as he held the spoon up to Yuri’s lips.

       Just like with Victor himself, Yuri never knew what to expect when it came to his fiance’s cooking. It wasn’t that he wasn’t capable–in fact, he cooked somewhat regularly, and the majority of the dishes he prepared turned out well. Yuri enjoyed watching him in the process. Most of what he did made sense, despite having a tendency to make it up as he went along. Yuri occasionally gritted his teeth in the instances when Victor reached for questionable spices, overused some, and left out the more obvious things like salt and pepper. Sometimes, he stepped in to “help,” silently correcting the mistakes he could.

       This time, it hadn’t been necessary. Yuri’s eyes widened slightly as he took a bite, taking in the blend of fresh vegetables and creamy wine sauce.

       “How is it?”

       “Good.” Yuri turned to his fiance, taking in the proud smile that crossed his face. It was strange to him just how much Victor took compliments like these to heart. He accepted compliments on his skating humbly, took corrections and criticisms from those he respected. But when Yuri complimented him on something like cooking his face lit up, as if it were the first kind thing anyone had said to him. Yuri wondered if that was a result of him having lived alone for so long or something else entirely.

       Right now was no exception. Victor’s eyes twinkled beneath his lashes, and a slight tinge of pink appeared on his cheeks as the comment appeared to sink in. “Good,” he murmured, turning back to the stove. Yuri watched him, taking in his soft profile, silver hair, and warmth. It was better than good, he thought as he leaned against him. 

       It was perfect.


	2. Just for Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Domesticy drabble for a rainy morning. Please don’t copy, plagiarize, or repost any portion of this work.

       Of all the things to make for breakfast, Victor had chosen pancakes. Yuri rubbed his eyes as he watched him, inhaling the scent of them and of the much-needed coffee that had just finished brewing. They both had a long day of training ahead, and both were operating on very little sleep. Even Makkachin seemed tired, and hadn’t budged when Yuri had rolled out of bed, fumbling for his glasses, a shirt, and a warm pair of socks.

       The lack of sleep seemed to be affecting Victor as well. He was quiet as he worked–so quiet that Yuri doubted he knew he was there, leaning against the island only a few feet away. With a sigh, he crossed the small distance and wrapped his arms around his waist, causing Victor to jump.

       “Yuri,” he said with a small, tired laugh. “You scared me.”

       “Hm.” Yuri hummed in response and buried his face into the soft fabric of his fiance’s shirt. Somehow Victor was always warm, even on the rainy autumn mornings when the apartment got cold despite the heater’s best efforts. It was during these mornings when Yuri would latch onto the other skater to make up for it, unconcerned with whether or not Victor understood his reasons.

       “Are you hungry?”

       “Mm-hm.”

       Victor flipped the contents of the pan before briefly placing a hand over the space where Yuri’s fingertips met. He turned then, the corners of his lips playing at a smile as his eyes took in his fiance for the first time. Yuri felt his cheeks growing warm as Victor’s eyes traced his body, locking onto his chest for a moment before meeting his gaze. “Is that my shirt?”

       “Oh, I…” Yuri’s voice faded as his face grew hotter. “It looked warm.”

       Victor didn’t respond. Instead, he reached out and brushed Yuri’s bangs aside with his fingertips, his hand trailing down and resting on the side of his face. His thumb rested on his lower lip, and without thinking, Yuri leaned into his touch. It seemed to be second nature to him these days, as much a part of his life as skating ever had been. In some ways, being with Victor seemed as familiar as the sport he’d dedicated his life to; as the sport, as Hasetsu, as his friends and family. He’d wondered once if that was just a result of the duration of their relationship, but…

       He placed his ring hand over Victor’s, watching the blue eyes that stared back into his. He’d known those eyes for a long time. He’d admired them, loved them. He watched them soften as he turned, gently pressing his lips against the tender skin beneath Victor’s palm. He kept them there for a bit before dropping his gaze and letting Victor pull him into a hug.

       “Yuri…” he murmured so quietly Yuri could barely hear him. Slowly, Yuri wrapped his arms around his fiance’s waist again, his hands resting just above the waistband of his sweatpants. He turned his head, resting it against Victor’s collarbone, feeling his chest rise and fall with slow, peaceful breaths.

       Yuri thought he understood. His eyelids grew heavy again and he allowed himself to close them, just for a moment. Just for now.

       And now was all that mattered.


	3. Moments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the same fic that's posted individually here on AO3. I'd written it before I decided to put all of my one-shots into a collection.

       Victor wasn’t sure exactly when he’d turned the volume down. The film was one of his favorites and had been Yuri’s choice for the evening, though Victor hadn’t been paying much attention anyway. He’d lost his focus partway through, the images onscreen blurring together into a gallimaufry of black and white. There was a time when he would’ve blamed it on the wine—he and Yuri both had had a bit more than their usual share during and after dinner. Yet presently, even the empty glasses on the coffee table neither fooled nor deterred him from the real source of his distraction, one that had rested its head against his chest and fallen asleep.  
       He glanced down at the mess of dark hair. Yuri’s breaths were slow, the shoulder that peeked out from under the blanket they shared rising and falling in the same, even pattern that it had for the past hour. This was a very different sight than the one he’d observed earlier that day, when his fiancé had grown so frustrated with his own performance during practice he’d nearly blocked Victor out completely. In truth, it worried him. Yuri was prone to the worst kind of self-criticism, and the reminder of that fact had come out full force in the form of stiffness, poorly-landed jumps, and overall disconnectedness.  
       But that, Victor thought as his fiancé shifted, all seemed to have passed. Careful not to move too much, he pulled the blanket tighter around them both, immediately regretting it when Yuri turned, eyes barely open beneath his lopsided glasses.  
       “I’m awake.”  
       Victor couldn’t help but smile at his groggy tone. “Sorry, Yuri.”  
       Yuri blinked at him, as if trying to process his words. “Oh, no. You didn’t wake me up.” He paused, sitting upright and adjusting his glasses. Victor watched him as he glanced over at the rolling credits on the screen. “What time is it?”  
       “Almost midnight, and no, I won’t accept this as an excuse tomorrow,” Victor teased as his fiancé’s eyes widened. Yuri smirked.  
       “Neither will I.”  
       It hadn’t taken Victor long to realize the effect the other man had on him. Even when they’d first met on the night he remembered so vividly and Yuri barely at all, Yuri had left a lasting impression. And it was, he recalled in amusement, an unusual impression he hadn’t been sure how to define. Back then, he hadn’t believed in love at first sight. Not entirely. He’d been sure he’d felt a connection with the strange Japanese skater who moved like poetry one minute and became a drunken mess the next, but love? That idea had blossomed in retrospect. It was one that now he thought he might have been naïve to dismiss.  
       One he couldn’t stand the thought of being without.  
       Victor brushed his hand against Yuri’s cheek. Even now, none of it seemed real. As if to break him from the spell, Yuri leaned toward him and gently pressed his lips against his. Victor savored the feeling of them, the way they lingered and coaxed and tasted of wine.  
       “Yuri,” Victor murmured when his fiancé pulled away. “Let’s stay here a bit longer.” Yuri’s eyes softened, and with a slight nod he let Victor lie back and pull him onto him. Victor held him, taking in the soft fabric of his shirt and the steady heartbeat beneath as Yuri drifted off to sleep again. Everything else seemed a world away and right now, he wouldn’t have it any other way.


	4. Late Nights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nights with Yuri are never boring, even when they're reaching their end. 
> 
> **Rated T for intoxication and sensuality**
> 
> Same fic posted individually to AO3.

       Victor had never considered himself weak. He had his flaws of course: his memory was terrible, he was prone to acting on whims of more than one nature, and he’d always had trouble keeping his focus on tasks outside of his career. Weakness wasn’t a common trait in his world, and certainly not for a five-time world champion, gold medalist, or any other of the many titles linked to his accolades. Despite this, he was beginning to realize that he was utterly defenseless when it came to one aspect of his life--one that was currently snaking an arm around his shoulders and staring up at him with the same determined look that Victor now knew so well.  
       “You had too much again,” Victor murmured, a small smile crossing his face as Yuri slumped against him. And taking advantage of it, he thought as he steadied him, only for Yuri to rest his head in the crook of his neck. They’d decided to take the night for themselves, meandering around the city and stopping at any place that caught their interest. The last of these establishments had been a bar with a 1920s theme, complete with a live band playing ragtime and jazz, and the last few glasses they’d had there had done a number on them both.  
       “I’m tired,” Yuri slurred as Victor reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out their room key.  
       “We’re here.”  
       They stumbled into the cool room, Victor holding the wall for balance as Yuri turned toward him and folded his arms around his neck and pressed against him, the cool metal he wore on his fourth finger brushing against his skin. Immediately, Victor caught his arm. “Yuri, you need to rest.”  
       His fiancé ignored him. Instead, he closed the distance between them and gently pressed his lips against the side of his neck. “Vitya.”  
       Weakness wasn’t the only thing Victor wasn’t used to. For as long as he could remember, he’d stood at the podium a champion with gold around his neck. Later, he’d stood proudly as a coach as Yuri had won his first Grand Prix medal after breaking a record Victor had set himself. But right now, as Yuri coaxed him with the taste of liquor lingering on the lips that’d met his, Victor was losing. Terribly. His fingers tangled in Yuri’s messy, dark hair as one of them--and Victor was barely conscious enough to determine who--deepened the kiss. When they finally broke apart, Victor rested his forehead against his fiancé’s.  
       “Yuri. You need rest,” he murmured in a tone as firm as he could manage. “We both do.”  
       That seemed to click. Yuri’s eyelids lowered slightly as he released him, as if being defeated by the truth of it or the alcohol that was finally taking its toll. Without another word, he staggered around Victor toward the bed and collapsed onto the soft comforter. Watching him for a moment, Victor caught his breath. Even after all the time they’d spent together, he still couldn’t predict where life with Yuri might lead next.  
       And he loved every minute of it.


	5. An Invitation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She never knows if JJ's taking his time off seriously.
> 
> JJ x Isabella drabble written for #JJStyleWeek (Day 2: Favorite Ship). Please don’t copy, re-post, or plagiarize any portion of this work.

       Isabella had received the text shortly after breakfast. It wasn’t uncommon for Nathalie to text her asking for this kind of favor, especially after a major competition or when she and Alain were looking after one of their other skaters. Nor did Isabella mind it in the least. In some ways, she liked being the one to look after JJ on the days when he wouldn’t take proper care of himself. Or at least, she thought as she unlocked the door to his apartment, to check in on him.

       It’d been evident even before they’d begun dating that JJ had no idea what to do with his time off. Ever since he’d been a child, he’d constantly been moving, going from skating, to music, to cramming a full day’s worth of studies in between. Paired with his already ambitious nature, this rigorous upbringing and lifestyle had paid off–at nineteen, JJ already had two extremely successful careers and showed no sign of slowing down in either. But there were times, Isabella thought as she pushed open his door, when he needed to.

      “JJ?” She stepped into his apartment, taking in his jacket slung over the back of the couch and empty water bottle on the coffee table. His apartment was always a little messy no matter how hard he tried to keep it organized. His idea of tidy and hers were two very different things, and while she acknowledged the effort, it was always a bit difficult to keep a straight face when she’d witnessed his attempts. She called his name again.

       “Studio,” came his voice from the other room.

       While the apartment wasn’t particularly big, he’d managed to fashion one room into a multi-purpose one for small music projects and practice. He tended to spend his rare moments at home there, and it was where Isabella found him again, lying on a yoga mat facing away from her and pulling his knee against his chest. He tilted his head back and watched her as she entered.

       “You know you’re supposed to be resting,” she said, crouching down beside him.

      “I am,” he insisted, switching to his other leg. He held it there for a minute before setting it down.

       Isabella sighed. “Your version or actual resting?”

       “Both,” he smirked. “So you can tell Mom I did exactly what she said to do.”

       “I came here on my own, you know.”

       “I know.” He watched her for a minute, the corners of his mouth twitching upward. Without warning, he turned on his side and grabbed her, pulling her down with him.

       “Jean!” she yelped as she landed on the mat facing him. She watched him as he stared at her, an ornery gleam in his eyes and that big, self-assured, goofy smile she loved so much crossing his face. Not for the first time, she found herself getting lost in both. There was something strangely private about the way he looked at her sometimes, whether it was just the two of them or in front of millions of his adoring fans. She hadn’t admitted it to herself at first, that there might be a look reserved just for her. Yet over time it’d become more frequent, things had begun to change between them, and later…

       She inched closer and kissed him, vaguely aware of the way he brought her ring hand to his chest. He traced the diamond gently with his thumb and pulled away, a softer smile crossing his face than before.

       “I knew you couldn’t resist,” he teased.

       “You started it.”

       “And I’m going to continue. I’m taking you on a date tonight.”

       “Oh, are you?”

       “Yep.” He sat up then, resting on his arm and turning to look down at her. “Day off, remember?”

       Isabella reached out slowly, tracing the outline of the tattoo on his supporting arm. She wondered if he knew she could do it by memory, even the small, cursive font in a perfect imitation. It was just one of the ways she knew him better than anyone, and she wouldn’t trade it for the world. A small smile crossed her face as she realized he was still waiting for her answer. Her answer. Her JJ. She left him waiting a minute longer before she finally spoke again.

       “I suppose that counts.”


	6. Footprints in the Snow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by a blend of prompts for YuuriWeek2017. Please do not copy, plagiarize, or re-post any portion of this work.  
> Posted on Tumblr here: http://random-animezing.tumblr.com/post/163367196543/footprints-in-the-snow

       Winters had always meant something special to Yuri. Some of his earliest memories had been of snow gently falling over Hasetsu, coating his home and the ground around it with a layer of white. His memories were clear of his mother teaching him to build a snowman, and clearer still of Mari launching a snowball into his face. As he grew older, he would look back at his footprints in it as he tromped to Minako’s studio, and later to the ice rink, his breath forming small clouds in front of him with every other step. On the days when he hadn’t been busy, he’d gone out to play in it, sometimes with Yuko and Takeshi after practice--his practice in snowball fighting with Mari helping greatly with the latter.  
       Now, it was rare that he ever had any time in winter off. When Yuri wasn’t training, he was traveling to compete. When he wasn’t doing that, there were interviews, appearances, and scrambling to make some sort of time for himself in-between. It didn’t help that Victor, his former coach and competitor turned husband, was just as busy. While Yuri was used to their hectic way of life, it was the other moments he enjoyed most.  
       Moments like these, he thought, bringing his mittened hands to his face. Makkachin trotted ahead, his paws leaving a line of footprints in the thin layer of snow that had already fallen. Beside him, Victor walked slowly, clearly enjoying their lack of hurry. Though they’d decided to get a place of their own here after they’d married, it still felt strange being back in Hasetsu sometimes, as if nothing had ever changed since the moment Victor had first arrived there.  
       “It doesn’t seem like it’s been that long, has it?” he asked.  
       “It hasn’t,” Yuri replied. “Two years isn’t so long.”  
       “It feels like a long time after seeing something like that.” Victor turned to him and smiled, and Yuri thought he understood. The two of them had just visited the Nishigoris at the rink and watched Axel, Lutz, and Loop practicing their programs. The triplets had been eager to show them their new jumps, and Victor in particular had been surprised by their progress. “Do you think they’ll keep competing?”  
       Yuri thought for a moment. “Maybe,” he said thoughtfully. “Yuko did say they were getting pretty serious about it.”  
       “That’s good.” Victor’s voice was quiet, and Yuri knowingly laced his arm through his and leaned against him. Victor had decided to retire from the competition scene for good the year before, and despite still playing a huge role in the skating world through ice shows, appearances, and commentary, he was still having trouble adjusting to the change in professions. Yuri couldn’t blame him. Skating had been a part of Victor’s life even longer than it had his own, and so often it seemed that it had completely taken over, leaving Victor to rarely recall more than a handful of memories outside of it. The most pleasant ones, Victor had said, involved Yuri himself.  
       “Do you regret any of it?” Yuri asked.  
       “Competing?” Victor asked, and Yuri nodded. He thought for a moment. “I used to think I did, at least in the later years.” He stopped, pausing momentarily and glancing down at Yuri. “Do you?”  
       “No.” The words slipped out more quickly than he’d expected, and when Victor raised an eyebrow, he sighed. “You know why.”  
       A small smile played at the edges of Victor’s lips. “I still like hearing it.”  
       Yuri felt a small tinge of heat threatening to rise to his cheeks. For a while now he’d wondered if that reaction would ever stop; that he’d get used to the way his husband looked at him, smiled, and teased him. Every time he thought it would, Victor proved him wrong. Even now, walking the same snowy steps toward home and family he’d walked for as long as he could remember. Family, he thought, squeezing Victor’s arm as they began walking again. He took in the snowy path and the lights from his home just ahead. He took in Makkachin jumping up to catch a falling snowflake, and the feeling of Victor’s arm through his.  
       Somehow, it all made winter seem even more special.


	7. What Works

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Isabella finds JJ alone after his failure at the Grand Prix Final.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for JJBellaWeek. Originally posted here: http://random-animezing.tumblr.com/post/167905203454/what-works

       Isabella known she was needed even before Nat and Alain had asked her for help. She knocked on her fiance’s hotel room door gingerly, glancing around the hallway. It was empty, silent even, somehow even more so without the sound of music or a TV behind the door. When there came no response, she leaned closer, her face inches from the doorway.

       “JJ,” she said just loud enough for him to hear her. “It’s me.” She waited a moment longer, hearing the slow shuffle of his footsteps as he approached and the chain lock sliding open. He opened the door, not saying a word as he stepped aside and let her in. Isabella maintained the silence, slipping off her jacket and hanging it in the closet nearby. She paused, taking in the costume beside it he’d already changed out of. The purple and sparkle looked out of place among the casual and workout clothes he’d brought with him. Especially in this dark room, she thought, glancing at him as he made his way back to the bed and sat down.

       JJ always had been hard on himself, she thought, taking in his sulking form. The rims of his eyes were red, and although he’d managed to regain his composure until he’d received his score, she could tell he’d been crying again. Wordlessly, she sat down beside him.

       Anyone who knew her fiance–really knew him–knew how hard he worked. He’d earned his place in everything he did, dedicating his life to training and music and clawing his way to the top in both. More impressively, she thought, he maintained it. What little time wasn’t spent contributing to his careers was spent for and with others. Somehow, he’d always made time for family, for friends, for her–not a moment was wasted, and every moment JJ spent making either himself or someone else better.

       Maybe that was why, she thought to herself, his failure tonight had hurt so much.

       His short program had by far been his worst performance. He’d had off days, true, but he’d always managed to pull through. Even from the start, when she’d seen his first mistake after the music started and the look he’d gotten in his eye, Isabella had known this was different. She stared down at her hands, taking in the glistening diamond ring he’d given her as a promise to them both. It was so very like him, she thought, to put even more pressure on himself right before something as important as the Grand Prix Final. Despite the situation, a small smile threatened to cross her face.

       “Do you remember when you asked me out for the first time?”

       Even from the side, she could see a flicker of curiosity in his eyes, even if his face gave little else away. She took a deep breath.

       “I’d thought you were the most confident guy in the world up until that point. Tall, cute, talented to the point of being unfair. There never was anything you couldn’t do.” She paused, letting the smile cross her face as he turned to her. He raised an eyebrow slightly, and she continued. “But every now and then, I’d catch you staring, and you’d put your foot in your mouth more times than I could count. Do you remember how you asked me out?”

       He let out a small, defeated chuckle, and even in the dimly-lit room, Isabella could see the tips of his ears turning red. “‘How about a date with the king?’”

       She nodded. “I’ve always liked your confidence, you know.”

       “Yeah, well, that wasn’t it,” he said. “I felt like an idiot as soon as I said it. If you’d had any idea how nervous I was…”

       “Oh, I did,” she replied, her smile crossing her face fully now. Seeing the corners of his lips twitch upward, she scooted closer and put an arm around his shoulders. “You’ve always been amazing at everything you do. Subtlety might be the only exception.”

       He smiled briefly, his eyes meeting hers for a bit. He reached across her lap, taking her hand in his and admiring the ring she wore. “It still worked,” he said, leaning into her and burying his head in the crook of her neck. She held him there, taking in his warmth and defeat, wishing there was a way to take the latter from him. She ran her fingers through his hair and stroked the back of his neck, feeling as his breathing slowed. “I failed them, Bells.”

       “Who?”

       “Mom. Dad. You. Fans. Everyone else.”

       “Really?” Isabella paused, moving back slightly so she could look him in the eye. “All of those people, standing, cheering, and chanting your name…were they doing that because they were disappointed in you or because they love you?” When he didn’t answer, she continued, a resting her forehead against his and giving the hand that still held hers a squeeze. “I know which it is for me.”

       For the first time, he smiled, a small glimmer of his usual self in his eyes. He kissed her lightly and pulled her into a hug. She held him there, feeling the strange, heavy calm that sometimes came over him when it all got to be too much. And yet, she thought as he melted into her more, his normally strong frame suddenly feeling small in their embrace, she knew he’d pick himself back up. She’d already seen a glimpse after he’d been scored, seen another in the small look he’d given her moments before. She didn’t know how long it would take for him to be fully back on his feet, but she’d be there beside him, helping him every step of the way.

       “Think I still have a shot?” he asked, not bothering to hide the tinge of hopefulness in his voice. “I’m going to give it everything I’ve got tomorrow night.”

       Isabella didn’t have to think about her response. She broke away from him again, looking him right in the eye. Giving him the most mischievous look she could muster, she smiled and rested her forehead against his. “You never know. It just might work.”


	8. To Ourselves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, JJ and Isabella just needed to be alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for the Date Night prompt for JJBellaWeek. Originally posted here: http://random-animezing.tumblr.com/post/167942148404/to-ourselves

       It never was easy to make date nights work. They were already rare enough with JJ’s two careers and unforgiving schedule the combination resulted in. When they did go out, they were often swarmed by his fans, occasionally photographers if they weren’t careful enough to stay relatively inconspicuous. Isabella had learned to work around it. Like her fiance, she didn’t necessarily mind the attention, but she also couldn’t deny that there were nights when she just wanted him to herself.

       And JJ knew it. She greeted him with a peck on the lips as he entered her apartment, shrugging off his jacket and beanie and absently hanging them both on the hook nearby. She smirked as she took in the dark circles under his eyes and reached up to his hair, mussing it gently with her fingers. He seemed to lean into her touch a bit, his eyes brightening as they met hers.

       “I already ordered the pizza,” she said as he took her in his arms. “Half your favorite, and half mine. I still can’t believe you don’t like pineapple.”

       “It’s just wrong,” he replied. “Putting a fruit on pizza is unnatural.”

       “Tomato’s a fruit.”

       “But it tastes like a vegetable. It’s an exception.” He pulled her into a hug then, resting his chin on the top of her head. “I’m tired, Bells.”

       She knew. Ever since his lackluster performance during his short program at the Grand Prix Final a few months ago, it seemed that JJ grew tired more easily. He was certainly harder on himself when it came to skating now, and every bit of spare energy he had he put into either thoughts of it or practice. Sometimes she thought the memory alone was still weighing on him, despite the fact that he’d still manage to secure a bronze medal and had been met with overwhelming support from his fans.

       Then again, she knew him better than most. Her fiance was a perfectionist through and through, and he wasn’t the type who could simply carry his own weight. She’d always thought it was both one of his best and worst features. A failure for JJ wasn’t just a failure for himself. He pushed himself for his family, friends, and fans. He believed wholeheartedly that if he didn’t give his best performance, he was letting every one of them down.

       She breathed in his scent as she hugged him back, taking in the cold and still-lingering scent of leather that mixed with subtle traces of his cologne. “Go relax,” she muttered into his chest. He gave her one more squeeze, kissed the top of her head, and obliged, sauntering over to the sofa and sinking into it. Isabella paused nearby, watching as he leaned forward and began to look through the DVDs she’d left on the coffee table. He paused on one, taking it in his hands and turning it over and studying it. She watched as he held it up to her, a playful smile crossing his face.

       She couldn’t help but smirk in return. “Really? That one?”

       “Hey, you’re the one who made it an option.”

       “I was more wondering if you’d recognize it.”

       “So it was a test,” he teased, waving the DVD once in his hand. “I’ll pass any test you throw at me. This is the first movie we ever watched together. Before I finally agreed to go out with you.”

       “Well, you’re half right.” Isabella smirked. “Is that your choice?”

       He thought for a moment, his tiredness showing clearly now in the softness of his expression. It was a look he never showed the world, and probably couldn’t even if he had a reason to. This was a different JJ, one only she and his closest friends and family had gotten to see. This was the JJ who confided in her, who told her his concerns, his doubts, or even just old family stories that he thought she might enjoy. He looked younger, boyish even despite his strong features, with his messy hair and tinged cheeks still flushed from the cold. She watched him rub the back of his neck and turn his head this way and that, loosening the muscles and letting out a slow, comfortable breath before nodding once.

       “Definitely.”

       “It’s a good one,” she said. “Go ahead and start it.” Before he could, a knock at the door interrupted, and Isabella held up her hand. “I’ll get it.”

       JJ nodded once and turned his attention to starting the DVD while she answered. The delivery boy shivered as she opened the door, a wide, braces-clad grin and slight blush crossing his face as he handed her the receipt to sign. She greeted him kindly, and in her peripheral vision, she could see him craning his neck slightly, his eyes widening and smile fading into a look of surprise. If he’d seen JJ–if he recognized him–he didn’t say anything, and Isabella couldn’t help but notice his expression, one that was quickly turning into excitement as he looked back at her.

       It was something they’d begun to grow more used to as time progressed, and even in the rare instances when JJ wanted to avoid attention, he’d never had the heart to deny them a hello or photo when they asked. Isabella suddenly found herself grateful for this boy, who seemed bound and determined to leave them to their privacy. She thanked him, and he blushed in response as she slowly slid the door shut. Feeling JJ’s eyes on her, she crossed the room and set the pizza on the coffee table. “I think he was a fan.”

       “Maybe so, but he seemed a lot more interested in you.”

       “Is that jealousy I detect?”

       “Nope. The opposite.” JJ’s eyes were mischievous as he made his way back and sat down again and watched her as she joined him. “It just tells me what I already know: that I have the most beautiful girlfriend, and I finally get her all to myself.”

       Isabella shook her head, feeling a prickle of heat rising to her cheeks at the shamelessness and sincerity of his comment. It didn’t matter how many times he said things like this to her or how used to it she believed she’d gotten. It was one thing when she knew he was showing off–or more specifically, as it often went, showing her off–but it was something entirely different to hear it when it was just the two of them. As she reached for the remote, she caught a glimmer from her engagement ring on her finger, and the comment sunk in even more. Once they were married–and they hadn’t set a date yet–would he still make comments like those?

       Would he always?

       She felt him drape his arm around her shoulder heavily, as if confirming what she secretly hoped. This was just how they were; how they’d always been, and she hoped they never changed.


	9. The First Skate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A young Yuri Katsuki takes to the ice in his first-ever competition and catches the first glimpse into his future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Read it on Tumblr here: https://wyseink.tumblr.com/post/167813900530/the-first-skate
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! This is also posted individually in the Yuuri Birthday Week collection.

       Yuri leaned forward, resting his hands on his ankles as he pointed and stretched his feet. Within a few weeks’ time, he would be entering his first-ever figure skating competition. It was small, an in-house show at the Ice Castle with about a dozen young skaters his own age competing for a trophy and a shot at the podium. Among those skaters would be Yuko and Takeshi, both of whom had mastered their programs and seemed eager for the big day to arrive. Yuri tugged at the elastic of his shoe and glanced over at Yuko, who stood with one hand on the barre practicing tendus.  
       He wondered how they both could be so calm about a competition. While it was true he’d trained just as hard as they had, Yuri was nervous. Skating in front of an audience–in front of judges–was much different than skating together with them or in front of their coach. On top of that, he had a costume: it was one that Minako and his coach had selected, a plain white button-down shirt and black trousers with a sparkling blue bow tie. He remembered how Yuko’s eyes had brightened when she’d seen him in it, and even now he blushed at the thought, ducking his head again as his friend sat down beside him, stretching her feet out before her.  
       “Did you decide yet, Yuri?” He blinked at her blankly, and she continued. “On your music for the Christmas showcase!”  
       “The showcase?”  
       Yuko nodded. “You were planning on performing in it, weren’t you?”  
       “Oh.” Yuri sat up and relaxed, tapping his feet against the air aimlessly. “I guess…I haven’t thought about it yet.”  
       “Too focused on the competition?” Yuko smiled warmly, nodding as if she understood. “You’re so good, Yuri. I hope you’ll skate with us for the show, too.”  
       I’m not that good, Yuri thought, unable to contain the small smile that threatened to cross his face. Am I? It was true that he made more time to practice than most of his other rinkmates, and it was true that he hoped he would become good one day. He’d loved skating since the day he’d been introduced to it, and more than once he’d imagined himself standing alone on the ice with a crowd cheering for him, just like the guys he’d seen on TV. Still, that all seemed like a world away, and Yuri had never even competed before. He wasn’t even sure he would like it.  
       “Let’s both do our best,” she continued, interrupting his thoughts. “Maybe once the competition’s over, you can decide.”  
       “Tch. If he doesn’t run off and cry first.” Takeshi shuffled his foot on the floor nearby, his lips turning outward into a slight, annoyed pout. Yuko folded her arms across her chest.  
       “You’re just jealous,” she snapped, and Takeshi winced at the intensity of her tone. “Yuri could win this competition and you know it!”  
       Yuri glanced up as Takeshi stuck his tongue out at his friend, then sulked away to warm up elsewhere. Yuri’s blush deepened, and he turned back to Yuko, wanting to change the subject. “You could win too, Yuko-chan,” he muttered shyly. “Your music is really cool.”  
       “You think so? I love it!” she exclaimed, clapping her hands together once. “I have the prettiest costume, too! It’s yellow and sparkly with ribbons that flow from the sleeves. What does yours look like?”  
       Before he could answer, Minako clapped her hands and twirled, alerting the students that it was time for class to start. Yuri stood up and found his place at the barre, careful to stay away from Takeshi. When the music started, all of his nerves and thoughts of the competition faded away. He focused on his feet, on his posture, and on the tune itself, careful to make every step count.

***

 

       The day of the competition arrived before he knew it, and Yuri paced back and forth, a bundle of nerves and running his program over again and again in his head.  
       “Katsuki-kun, don’t tire yourself out,” his coach said gently, but Yuri didn’t hear him. Instead, he continued, pausing only when he felt a firm but familiar hand on his shoulder. Minako turned him to face her, adjusting his bow tie and quickly combing her fingers through his hair.  
       “You’re ready for this,” she told him, giving his shoulder a squeeze. “Do you remember what I told you?” When Yuri shook his head no, she smiled. “Yes, you do. Repeat it back to me.”  
       “‘I swear it’s just tea?’”  
       “The other thing,” Minako muttered flatly.  
       Yuri thought for a moment. “‘Dance is like dreaming with your feet?’”  
       Minako smiled, giving his shoulder another squeeze. “Exactly,” she said. “And skating is just like dancing.”  
       Somehow, through the nerves that fluttered through him, Yuri thought he understood. He turned to look at his coach then, at his rinkmates, at Yuko and Takeshi, who waited nearby. He nodded to himself, his mind drifting onto the ice that awaited him and his friends–his competitors. He saw himself there, in the costume he wore almost proudly, his music starting and the audience erupting in cheers. Minako and his friends would be watching, his mom, dad, and Mari, too. He glanced down at his hands, shaking slightly beneath the crisp, white cuffs, and at the skates that had begun feel comfortable on his feet.  
       He left Minako and hurried to join his rinkmates, where their coach had gathered them in a circle. Yuri barely listened as he gave them a pep talk, instead running his routine again and again in his mind. He felt an air of focus fall over him as the coach dismissed them and they all drew numbers. Yuri glanced around the room, taking in the sight of a nervous girl who’d drawn the one, of Takeshi, who was clearly doing his best to act indifferent despite the anxious twiddling of his thumbs, and Yuko…well, Yuko looked as happy as ever, he thought, an encouraging smile crossing her face as she met his gaze before ducking her head again, the ribbons she wore in her hair swaying as she tilted her head this way and that, talking to their peers.  
       Yuri barely noticed as one by one, they took to the ice. Smile, he thought as they returned. Listen to the music. Focus on technique, but don’t forget to perform. The nerves turned into a flutter of excitement as his coach called to him and led him to the ice. He barely remembered how he handed his coach his skate guards and stepped onto the ice, barely heard the cheers from his family, Minako, and friends. He skated to the center, waiting until the music started and reminding himself to smile when it did. He reached up toward the ceiling as the tune rang out, and with one swift movement with his foot, he began to glide forward.  
       They’re watching me, he thought as he skated in a small circle, his arms out to the sides like an airplane. They were watching, and out on that ice, to his favorite tune, Yuri was dreaming.

**Author's Note:**

> Each fic can be reblogged from http://www.random-animezing.tumblr.com. Please don’t copy, plagiarize, or repost any portion of this work.


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